


Much Ado About Nuffin

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Much Ado About Nothing, References to Shakespeare, Snakes, Sweet, The Globe, Theatre, does it count as kid fic if the kids are snakes but so is one of the parents?, very sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 21:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: Azirafather, where are we going?Anthony Junior, ever the spokesperson, asked the inevitable question.“To surprise your father in one of his very favourite places.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 298
Collections: Wiggleverse





	Much Ado About Nuffin

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, I wiggled again.

_Azirafather, where are we going?_ Anthony Junior, ever the spokesperson, asked the inevitable question. 

“To surprise your father in one of his very favourite places.”

There was a cacophony of whispers from his satchel as the children discussed this new information amongst themselves. Aziraphale hadn't told them where they were going, hadn't even told them there was to be a trip, in case they accidentally told Crowley. It was one of the first times they'd taken all five of them out at the same time, and they were big enough now that they couldn't all fit in his pockets, hence the satchel.

_Where's Father now?_

“If he's done as he's told, Ben, he will be waiting for us at the Tate Modern.”

A pause, then the inevitable question.

_What is the Tate Modem?_

Aziraphale smiled, and slipped his hand into the satchel where it bumped against his hip. Several small tongues flickered against his fingers, and one little body curled around his wrist. They were anxious, and excitable, and although he couldn’t hold them right now, he could offer them this reassurance. 

It was a beautiful day, and he’d decided to make the walk from the bookshop to the Tate. Crowley had gone out early that morning, on Aziraphale’s request, to collect a first edition from an elderly man in a village in Hampshire. Crowley was a lot calmer these days, but still loved the exhilaration of a long, fast drive out of London. Luckily, because Aziraphale had needed him out of the way so he could get the children ready to go out. 

He left his reassuring hand in the bag as they crossed the river and passed by the National Theatre. Their charming little espresso bar was open and he stopped to purchase a coffee to sip as he finished his walk. His children, so very intelligent, began to chatter again as he waited patiently in this line. 

_It smells funny in here!_

_It smells like the earth in the park._

_It smells like Father in the morning._

As the girl behind the counter handed him his coffee, she gave Aziraphale such a beaming smile that he realised he must be glowing. 

Crowley was waiting, ever patient, in front of the gallery. He had his own coffee in hand, lounging artfully against a wall in dappled sunlight, and Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. So handsome, his demon was. 

_Father’s here._ Raffy observed. _I can smell him._

“He is, darlings. Now remember, quiet for a moment or two, if you can.”

“Angel!” Crowley raised a hand, grinning, and immediately ruining the suave image of indifference he’d been cultivating with his lounging. 

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand. “Were you successful?”

“Course. Grumpy old sod he was, just my sort. Book’s in the car, didn’t think you’d want it flashed about.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale kissed him on the cheek. “You will get your reward in due course.”

“Don’t need a reward, angel,” Crowley blushed. “What are we doing here anyway? Fancy a bit of a wander did you? We haven’t been to a gallery for ages.”

“Ah yes.” Aziraphale kept his grip on Crowley’s hand and walked him past the door. “And I’m afraid it will be a little while longer before we do. I’m afraid I rather got you here on false pretenses.”

He glanced over to see Crowley looking at him over the top of his sunglasses, a tiny curl of a smile on his lips. 

“Did you know, my dear, that the summer season is starting this weekend, with Much Ado About Nothing?”

“Oh angel,” Crowley stopped, his smile so wide that his fangs crept over his lips. “Are you taking me to the Globe?”

“Not just you,” Aziraphale replied, pulling his satchel around to open it with a flourish. “I think it is rather time we show Ben his namesake, don’t you?”

_Surprise, Father!_

Five small heads bumped against Crowley’s hand as he put it in the bag. 

“Hello, spawn. Look at you, all cosy for your grown up day out.”

Aziraphale had settled the children with several soft scarves, to give them something to burrow into in case the day was too chilly for them, and they’d wrapped themselves in them and around each other.   
“Are they ready for this, do you think?”

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale said. “And even if they aren’t, at worse they’ll just curl up and go to sleep. This day is for you, my darling.”

“You’re too good to me, angel,” Crowley murmured, kissing his cheek. 

_Azirafather, you still haven’t said what we are doing!_ Tiff bumped her head against his hand. _What is Much Ado About Nuffin?_

It was a short walk to the theatre, and the crowds were starting to gather. Usually, Aziraphale and Crowley would go in as groundlings, just like back in Will’s day when they could always be found near the stage of any new play he put on. But they were parents now, and it wasn’t just about them. It was time to grow up a little bit.

“A box,” Crowley said, as they climbed the stairs. “Bit fancy for us, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my dear, but if the children are to watch, I thought we’d do better to have some privacy.”

“Genius.”

The atmosphere was still good up in the box, the air thick with excitement and anticipation. Much Ado had always been a crowd favourite, since the very first time it had been played, and there was no bigger fan than Crowley. As soon as he sat down, he took the bag from Aziraphale’s shoulder and opened it. He reached in and took out Ben, who immediately wrapped around his wrist. 

“This is a special day for you, Benedick,” Crowley said. “You’re named after a guy in this play. One of my favourites, just like you.”

He held Ben close to his face and murmured to him, leaning over to show him the crowd and the stage, as Aziraphale took the rest of the children from the bag and got them settled. In the relative privacy of the box, they could be quite open about the five baby snakes watching their first play. He let Anthony and Sam up onto his shoulders, where they curled around his neck, put Tiff on Crowley’s shoulder as he talked to Ben, and let Raffy wrap around his wrist, which he rested carefully on the edge of the box. 

At that moment, Borachio walked across the stage, strumming a guitar, and Crowley turned to glance at him, a beaming smile on his face. He’d taken off his sunglasses, and his eyes were so full Aziraphale had to look away to compose himself. 

_How does a play work?_ Sam hissed in his ear, his tongue flickering. 

“We sit quietly and watch, darling. It is as though I am reading you a story, only there’s more people to play all the parts.”

_I like stories._

“Then I hope you will like this one. It is your Father’s favourite.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, Kedreeva, for the sandbox!


End file.
